The Broken and The Mended
by NotCrazyJustCreativelyInsane
Summary: "As tears soundlessly carved their way down his cheeks, he raised the blade. One quick jab. He'd done it hundreds of times before. So why were his hands shaking so hard he could barely keep hold of the knife? He closed his eyes, reminding himself it was for the kingdom's protection and Merlin's own good." No slash.


**Disclaimer: IDOM.**

 **No slash, just strong bromance.**

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 _ **The Broken and The Mended:**_

A _friendship once dead..._

How could he? After all they've been through, how could he? His best friend; a sorcerer.

He had found out earlier that day when he had walked into his room to find his chamber cleaning itself. And his servant stood in the middle of it all, humming to himself as if naught was wrong in the world.

Arthur had quickly turned tail before he could be seen, his thoughts in a whirl.  
Magic? His goofy, clumsy servant, who couldn't stand to kill a rabbit, evil? How? How could that possibly be?

He felt a burning behind his eyes. Not again! It couldn't be happening again! First Morgana, then Agravaine, then Gwen, now Merlin? Please, no. Anything but that! He couldn't handle it.  
He found a tiny alcove and ducked into it. Once in there, he slid down the wall, sucking in deep breaths to stop the tears that seemed determined to escape.

Why? Why did everyone have to leave him? What was so wrong with him that made everybody want to betray him? What had he done that was so unforgivable? Whatever it was, he would fix it. If it was the last thing he did, he would fix it.

He just wished he knew where to begin.

And not just was it a betrayal, but the betrayal of all betrayals. Magic. And magic always corrupted. Now it was destroying Merlin. Arthur couldn't let that happen.  
Taking a steadying breath, he swiped at his damp cheeks and stood.  
Yes; whatever it took, he would not let Merlin follow in Morgana's footsteps.  
Arthur just wished it wouldn't have to hurt so much.

He avoided Merlin for the rest of the day. How could he stand to look into the face of one who was so dear to him? One he trusted so completely? Especially with the guilt of what was to come later; what he was going to do to his once friend.

This turned out harder than he previously anticipated. Being master and servant tended to make that slightly more difficult. But he worked around that. Whenever Merlin entered a room, Arthur made some excuse to leave and he steered clear of his chambers all together. The only time they spoke was for Arthur to dismiss the younger man at the end of the night.  
Merlin must have understood he was in trouble, for he said nothing more than was required of his post. Arthur was glad. He was sure if the servant - the sorcerer, he reminded himself - said anything more than he should, Arthur might go off on him. So the night passed very uncomfortably for the two.

Once dismissing Merlin, Arthur waited in the silence of his thoughts for the midnight bell.  
He was so sick and tired of everyone using him, pretending to be his friend, then casting him aside. Merlin had always been loyal, stupidly so, but now he had magic. Magic turned men's hearts to stone. Morgana had once been loyal to Camelot. Look what happened to her. If magic could corrupt his sister to the point she was unrecognisable, what would it eventually do to Merlin? What happened when he decided he didn't want to be ordered around anymore? Would he join Morgana? Would he try to take over the kingdom on his own?

Would he try to kill Arthur, too? Everybody else wanted him dead, why not? And that hurt more than Arthur could say.

Well, he was not going to give Merlin that chance.

The bell softly tolled, signaling the arrival of midnight. Arthur stood slowly. He crossed to his bedside table. Opening one of the drawers, he pulled something out.  
He didn't want Merlin to become so cold. He couldn't stand by and watch his friend gradually deteriorate until he was a shadow of the caring man he was now. He refused to.  
He twirled the blade in his hand slowly, studying it from all angles. He couldn't burn Merlin, even though it was the law. And he wouldn't give him a public execution. Merlin didn't deserve that humiliation. Sheathing it, he turned to leave.

This was for Merlin's own good. Arthur loved him to much to let him slowly die that way.  
No, best get it over with quickly and try not to think this was killing him on the inside as well.  
Heading for the physician's chambers, he prayed Merlin and Gaius were already in bed and asleep. It would make this much easier; or so he tried to tell himself. He knew it was cowardly, but he didn't want to see their own betrayed faces as he went through with this.  
As he walked, his mind, once more, wandered. Just this afternoon, he and Merlin were laughing and joking with each other. How things had changed in an instant.  
It hurt to think. His servant. Heck, his friend. His best friend, even. Arthur had thought it would always be like that. All jokes and bantering, with thinly veiled affection held in their voices and words.

He almost wished he had never found out. The sudden betrayal had to be better than what he was about to do.

But he just couldn't stand the thought of Merlin descending down into a pit of hate. The image made him sick.

The same would happen if he was simply banished, as well. He would stew in hate and anger, then one day come back for revenge. It would happen. It always happened.  
 _But_ , another part if his mind said, _he would be alive._

 _Yes_ , he argued, _alive and well and just the same as Morgana. I don't want to do this, but I have to. For the good of the kingdom_. Camelot surely wouldn't stand if Merlin and Morgana joined forces.  
He arrived at Gaius' door. Pushing it open slowly, he peeked in. All was dark inside. They were in bed. Good.

Stealing inside, he tiptoed to Merlin's door.

He slipped into the tiny bedroom, ears full of the soft snores of his friend.  
The moon illuminated Merlin's face, making his pale skin look translucent. He looks so young, Arthur thought fondly. Curled on his side with his arms tucked around his torso, he looked like a child. It nearly sent Arthur to his knees in tears. Such innocence that would eventually be stripped away.

Arthur couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Not to his Merlin.

He was suddenly assaulted with the image of burning gold eyes, full of hate and contempt, replacing the usual vibrant blue; bringing Camelot to its knees; standing beside his sister as she was crowned queen; killing all those he once cared for; it hardened Arthur's heart once more.  
He silently approached the bed, pulling the dagger from his belt. As tears soundlessly carved their way down his cheeks, he raised the blade. One quick jab. He'd done it hundreds of times before. So why were his hands shaking so hard he could barely keep hold of the knife? He closed his eyes, reminding himself it was for the kingdom's protection and Merlin's own good.  
Pictures and images bombarded his mind. Merlin, standing up to him when he was just a bully. Merlin, throwing himself into danger's way for the Prince's protection. Merlin, declaring he was happy to be Arthur's servant until the day he died. Merlin, laughing and smiling and goofing off. Merlin, Arthur's first and truest friend.

He glanced at the blade, still poised over the boy's heart. Then at the boy's sleeping face. _Liar_ , Arthur reminded himself. _Betrayer. Murderer. Evil._

 _Friend. Adviser. Brother._

Glancing at the blade again, he let out a choked sob and threw the knife away from him, disgusted with himself for his actions, for what he had almost done. He scrabbled backward until he was pressed into a corner of the small room. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms. How could he? This was Merlin, his brother. His baby brother and Arthur had almost killed him. The self-loathing grew as he sobbed. He was so confused.  
"Hello...?" A hesitant voice called out in the darkness. At the sound of that sleepy voice, that sweet voice, Arthur cried harder.

A low groaning came from the direction of the bed. "Who is that? What's the matter?"  
Arthur felt a hand land on his shoulder. He flinched violently and pulled away. He didn't want to be comforted. He had nearly killed this precious person because he was afraid. How petty was he? He deserved to have his stomach churning in horror. He could not bring himself to look up into that concerned face.

"Arthur?" Merlin whispered. "Is that you? What's wrong?" Truth was, Merlin was terrified. What could be so horrible that would bring the king to his room, crying, in the middle of the night? Thousands of scenarios rushed through his head. None of them good.

Closer Merlin could make out the King's form. The King's sobbing form.  
"Arthur? Please, talk to me. What happened?"  
Arthur glanced up into those eyes, those beautiful, vibrant blue eyes. Then, behind his own eyelids he saw them glazed over in death, death at his own hand, and had to look away again, horror for what he was about to do making his stomach churn violently. He only just managed to not get sick. Almost.

Merlin noticed he was going paler. He grabbed a cup of water from his bedside table.  
Accepting the goblet, he felt Merlin drape a steadying arm across his shoulders. He felt the tears well up again. He was prepared to end the life of such a caring soul. Arthur turned in to the younger boy's chest and tried to steady his breathing, Merlin murmuring soothingly in his ear.  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Arthur gabbled brokenly.

"Sorry for what? What are you talking about? Arthur, you're starting to scare me, what's wrong?"  
Arthur just shook his head, unable to speak anymore.  
Merlin continued speaking reassuring nonsense in his friend's ear, running his fingers through the blond locks. As his eyes roved over the room, looking for whatever had his king in such a state, they locked on the glint of silver not far from the boys. What in the world? Studying it closer, he recognized that blade. He'd polished it enough times to spot it anywhere. But what was Arthur's hunting knife doing in his bedroom...

Oh.

The knife, Arthur's crying apologies, the late hour. It all added up, no matter how he wished it didn't.  
Arthur had tried to kill him.

He had to be enchanted. That was the only explanation. Arthur would never try to harm him otherwise.

But no matter how hard he hoped, prayed even, he could find no traces of dark magic. As he discovered this, Merlin gasped quietly. He could only force one word past his lips. "Why?" He had to know for sure, though he suspected. Arthur knew. Somehow, Arthur knew. And he tried to kill him for it. His worst nightmare was coming true.

Arthur stiffened, the shame washing over him once more. "I'm so sorry."

Merlin pulled back from their awkward embrace, shaking his head, seemingly not hearing him. "Whatever I have done, I can assure you I meant no harm. I swear on my mother's life I meant no harm."

Arthur found himself hard pressed to not believe him. He sounded sincere. And if he swore on Hunith's life, then there was no way he was lying. But still...

"Why?" he asked the question himself. "Why magic?" He felt Merlin tense next to him.

"I had no choice."

Arthur snorted wetly.

"I didn't. I was born with it. And I've used it for you and Camelot. To protect it and keep you safe."

"Born with it?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible?" Arthur asked.

"It's rare, but it happens."

Arthur took that in. Born with it? He really didn't have a choice, did he? Arthur now felt even worse. He was going to kill such an innocent person for something he had no say in.  
"I'm so, so sorry, Merlin."

Merlin tipped his chin up so as to look him straight in the eyes. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

"Nothing to be sorry for! Merlin, I...I almost killed you! How is there nothing to be sorry for?"

"I'm still here, aren't I? You couldn't do it. You spared me when I was at your mercy. And for that, I thank you."

They fell to silence, each mulling over what had happened, when Merlin's small voice piped up.  
"You don't hate me, do you?"

Arthur sighed. "I...I wanted to, but...but I just couldn't. Every time I thought of you, I couldn't get your smile out of my head. It was hard to think of you as evil after that."

"You're not going to still have me killed, are you?"

"Of course not!" came Arthur's horrified cry. "I can't do that again. I'm so sorry."  
"Good... I'm not going to turn evil, you know."

"I know. I'm ashamed I doubted you."

"I forgive you. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course. But you have a lot of explaining to do."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

. _...was revived again_.

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 **Now I'm not to sure about the end. It seems to abrupt to me. But, that aside, I hope enjoyed and please leave a review and tell me your thoughts. Constructive criticism welcome as long as it's worded nicely.**

 **Until next time. Thanks!**


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